


Pretty Red

by gracediamondsfear



Category: Mad Max Series (Movies)
Genre: Dubious Consent, F/M, Femdom, Forced Breeding, Non Consensual Bondage, Nux Lives, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sex Slave, Voyeurism, war boy harem
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-11
Updated: 2015-07-17
Packaged: 2018-04-03 21:23:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 10
Words: 17,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4115373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gracediamondsfear/pseuds/gracediamondsfear
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nux survives the wreck in the canyon and all he wants is to get home to Capable.  But he's weak, and injured, and thirsty and sunburnt.  A mystery woman offers him water and a ride on her bike.  Be careful be careful be careful is what Larry always said, but he decides to take a chance.</p><p>Now he's in trouble.</p><p> </p><p>This is actually sort of a sub plot of of my other story The Mothers Of The Citadel, but there's enough that it's its own tale.  I promise not to abandon either of them. (But you know me.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Camshaft, Crankshaft, Cylinders, Valves

He did as he promised. He watched and saw that she got across safe and then he jammed the throttle and the gas, locking the wheel to the left. As the rig blew he dove from the seat, feeling the flames lick at his skin, burning like the night fevers, drying out his eyes, his tongue and throat in one breath. For a minute he thought it was his time; that the gates would open, he would dry up like the bean plants, curl into a husk and blow away.

The gates closed. There was more for him on this loathsome rock. 

His body fell against the rocks, clear of the wreckage, of the other rigs and trucks blowing to bits. The Gods had provided him with a safe space, a dark space, a cave in the rocks. Rocks don’t burn. In the chaos that followed he crawled out and forward, his leg not working quite right, one shoulder lower than the other, but adrenaline kept him alive and running, staying in the rocks, low to the ground, down the road towards where he saw her go.

Pretty Red.

Pretty Red and the Imperator and the rest of them were going back to the citadel, to his home, and he would get there. He would be at the new Citadel with her, protecting her, driving the new rigs, being a good man.

He crawled until it was dark. When he found water trickling through the rocks in the dark he let it wet his tongue. “Don’t become addicted, don’t resent its absence.” And yet he found he worked better when he had it. His brain worked better. Not like the Chrome, more real than that. When the sky turned purple and the moon came out the wreckage was still burning. The Rock Riders had set upon the survivors and started new fires. He hid in the rocks, his engine tired, overheated.

For a while, he slept.

He started crawling again before the sun came up, that grey purple dawn, the air thick with the smell of smoke and oil, burnt rubber and death. He needed whitening. He could feel the sun burning his skin, turning his shoulders pink. The skin on his face hurt when he touched it. Burning like a fever.

 

For a while he was sure that they would come back for him. They would say “He’s one of us…we have to go back.” He imagined that Pretty Red would make them turn around and save him. But the horizon in front of him was empty, the Citadel still miles away, shimmering in the sun as if it were alive. There were no more rocks to shade him, no more caves with water hidden inside, no food, no Chrome, out of gas. Dry. He crawled because his leg wouldn’t bend how he wanted it. 

 

_Just lay down_ Barry said, his voice dark and disgusted. _What’s to go back for now? She’s not yours. You got nothing. Just a mediocre hoon.  
_

_Keep up_ said Larry, bright and encouraging _She’ll be there. Joe’s gone, you can have her. Do what you want with her. She’ll teach you how…she’ll let you touch…_

There was something else on the horizon. No, closer. He pulled the far glass from his pocket and looked through. A bike. Maybe ten miles out. 

He smiled. He raised his hands to the V8, his heart full with gratitude. The bike came closer, slowly. It was strange that it was only one. It wasn’t safe to be out on the powder flats alone. He kept crawling, the sun burning his back, his left shoulder swelling.

 

_It’s not him. Or her. Rock Rider. Or Bullet Farmer._ Barry said. _They’ll rip your throat out and eat your lungs.  
_

_It’s her! Oh Nuxy it’s her!_ Said Larry, near to bursting with excitement. _Just think of how glorious it will be to hold her. How shiny.  
_

_Be careful Nux, be careful._

And then nothing worked. Not his legs, not his arms, he could barely pull in air. Everything hurt, burnt by the sun, dried up by the desert. He looked up at the bike. It was closer, but the driver. He could barely see a driver. He couldn’t see… 

He fell onto his side, curling his knees up to his chest. The sand seared his flesh just like the branding iron. He ran his fingers over the engine across his chest and recited the parts as he felt the scars _camshaft, crankshaft, cylinders, valves…camshaft, crankshaft, cylinders, valves….camshaft…pretty…chrome…_

The bike stopped a few yards shy and she got off, wondering if the boy was dead or sleeping or crazy. 

“War boy,” She said, nudging him with her foot. 

Nux looked up. Tall driver, wrapped in robes the color of the sand, black goggles hiding her face, a hood hiding her hair. Her boots were heavy black leather and she tipped his chin up to get a good look at him.

 

_Be careful be careful be careful._

“Oh,” she said, crouching down in front of him. “Where’s your white, war boy? You’re going to roast like a pig out here.” She pressed her fingers into the burns on his shoulders and he cringed with pain. “Sensitive war boy.” 

“Nux,” he said, his voice rasping, barely there. There was nothing in him to make noise with. He was empty.

“Are you thirsty?” She said, pulling out a canteen of water and unscrewing the cap. She took her hood off revealing long hair braided and pinned back, long iron spikes holding it in place. She held the canteen to his lips and held his chin, letting him drink.

Somehow it was cool. It was fresh tasting, no rust, no gas. He drank down long gulps while she stroked his cheek, running her fingers over the scar at his temple.

“A pretty war boy. Look at those eyes. Like the sea they are.” 

He stopped drinking and looked up at her. 

“Thank you.” 

“And polite. Where are you going little one? Out here in the sun, no white, no rig, no boys with you?”

 

_Be careful be careful_

“Trying to get back,” he said. And it was true. It made sense. “There was an accident in the Canyon. Rock Riders, fire. I got out but I can’t get back. I just…” he felt a devastating pull in his chest. An ache that made his eyes sting. “I want to get back.” 

She gave him more water. There was something familiar about her that he couldn’t place. Women weren’t common in his life, why couldn’t he remember this one? She stood and pulled him to his feet, putting his arm around her shoulders. Everything felt heavy, sounds were very far. The whole world wavered like the Citadel on the horizon. _Be careful._

“So tall!” She said, walking him to her bike. “Good muscles for a half life. I wonder what other surprises you have.” 

He didn’t understand what she meant, but he walked along side her, leaning against her, dragging his bum leg. She was trying to help. _Be careful._ She would take him home. 

“Tired little ghost?” She said, stroking his cheek again. 

She set him on the bike and pulled his arms around her strapping his wrists to the handlebars with long pieces of leather.  It didn't seem right.  It didn't seem safe.  Too tight. 

“What…are…” he couldn’t make words very well. Sleepy. Sad. He couldn’t see the Citadel. He couldn’t see the canyon. Couldn’t see. “Going home.” He fell forward against her back and she pulled the last strap around his waist, locking him on to her belt.

“Sort of,” She said, and with one heavy kick, started the bike.


	2. Sleep

 

Maybe he was in Valhalla. Maybe she was the gatekeeper. He was somewhere else in his mind. Somewhere he hadn't been but seemed familiar. He could hear a soft voice, a voice that made him feel warm.

_“Hey little nugget, where you gettin’ off to?”_

He felt arms around him as he was lifted into the air, thrown up into the sky and caught.  He was smaller, laughing. He was a boy. Not a war boy, not a repair boy. He was in the sun, on the sand near water, cold, washing over his feet, a rhythm back and forth. Shiny pebbles, animal shells. There was music. 

He heard the voice again, but instead of bright happiness he heard distress. He heard pain.

_“Be brave nugget, be a brave boy. Please, no. Please let me hold him one more time…please…”_

 

*********

He woke. But it was too much work to stay that way. It took everything in him to look around and see where he was. Darkness, heavy air, just like the rock, the cave where he lived. Did she bring him home?  He couldn’t move, but it was because he was tired. That was why. Why else? So he went back to the dark.

*********

 

Then he dreamed of her. Capable. Oh Pretty Red, her shiny eyes, her smile, her skin under his lips for one moment, the way she ran her hand over his scalp while they rode the flats, the way she held onto him while the sat on the bike. And even in the darkness he could remember the smell of her hair, the only good smell in the whole Citadel, the whole world.

_“Come home, Nux. We’re waiting at home.”_

 

********

When he woke again, he felt cool water. A bottle was held up to his lips and he drank. Someone touched him, poured water over his head, his back, his chest. He heard voices but it was too dark to see. Something covered his eyes.  There was something tight around his neck, his wrists.

“Look how long his legs are…and how strong…”

“Shame about those lips, I bet they were pretty.”

Water, more water, more wet, long strokes down his arms and chest. His legs were bare.

“Oh my! Look at that.” 

Girls. Women. They laughed. They poured water between his legs and he jumped, struggling against whatever held him down.  He growled at them and they squealed, laughing. Then they were gone. The voices and the water were gone and he was alone. He shivered in the cold darkness. Someone put something around him that made him warm. He slept again.

 

He woke in agony. Searing pain. Someone was holding him down, against a rock. He wrestled against the hands, the sharp pain in his shoulder.

“Shhh, little war boy. We’ll fix you right up. No need to suffer with these cysts anymore.”

The pain dug deeper, into his heart, into his stomach. He drew in deep breaths, growling out the air, feeling sick, deep in the pit of his belly.   

“My mates,” he said. “don’t.”

The pain reached a peak he’d never known and he felt something hot and warm dripping down his chest. The voice put warm bitter water to his lips. He drank it and it bloomed within him, the pain melting down, spreading out and cooling. He settled, stopped struggling, felt tired again.

“There you go my pet,” a different voice said. “Joe didn’t know how to take care of you boys.”

 

And he was in the darkness again.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another, longer chapter will quickly follow this. I just wanted this to be an entity unto itself.


	3. Nameless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here's your bondage kink right here.

He woke in a cold room, a room with walls and a ceiling; windows that let the sunlight in through dirty, cracked panes of glass like the warehouses in Gas Town. His arms were stretched out to either side, his wrists in heavy shackles chained to the wall, something tight and sharp around his neck. 

“Hey! What is this?” He yelled out, his rasping voice bouncing off the stone walls. 

Struggling against the chains was a waste of energy but he did it anyway because he was so angry and there was no other way to show it. He growled. He screamed. He spat at the ground and pulled at the chains. He was naked, his boots gone, the grease and the white all washed away, his skin slick with some sort of oil that made it shine and soothed the burns from the sun. He could see there were other chains in the room, all along the walls. There were buckets and benches, long iron pipes. It was definitely a warehouse. Or a garage. You could fit two war rigs in the chain room, but just then it only held him.

“LET ME OUT OF HERE!”

There was no answer, but he heard footsteps. Metal scraping and chains rattling and then the door at the far end of the room opened, letting her in; the woman with the bike who’d taken him from the desert. She wasn’t quite so wrapped up now, long strips of sand colored cloth twisted around her neck and back, draping down to cover her legs, her chest. She wore a heavy necklace made of tiny bones and rusted flywheels, a belt made of harvester chain and her honey colored hair was held in place by wrought iron spikes. She seemed much taller standing above him, much less likely the gatekeeper of Valhalla. All in white, but her boots were black leather, heavy soles and steel toed, laced to the knee.

“So much yelling, war boy. After all we did for you. Now if you were a good boy and used your manners you might get somewhere.”

She crouched down in front of him and he noticed that she held in her hand another long piece of white cloth, another bottle of water. 

“You’re tired of sitting around alone, doing nothing, aren’t you little war boy?”

He didn’t want that name anymore. ( _You’re an old man’s battle fodder!)_ He didn’t want to be nameless anymore. He had a reason for a name. He had someone to use it. Thinking of her there made him angry at being here, useless, chained to a wall. So instead of answering the woman’s question he growled and lunged forward, as far as the chain would go and snapped his teeth at her.

“That wasn’t polite at all,” she said. 

Frowning, she reached forward, digging her fingers into the bandaged wound on his shoulder. The cysts were gone but the flesh was still weeping and sensitive. A sweat broke out on his forehead as the pain shot through him, twisting in his belly. He thought he was going to heave on her, so he shrunk away from her touch.

“Now, why don’t you listen to what I have to tell you and we’ll all have a better afternoon, yeah?” She stroked her hand over his cheek, over the scars on his lips, brushing them with the pad of her thumb.

He nodded.

“Good boy.”

Pulling at a lever on the wall, she lengthened the chains so he could stand in front of her, although the metal collar around his neck was so heavy he couldn’t pull himself up to his full height. She wrapped the cloth around his waist, knotting it in the front, running her fingertips over his flat belly, the little trail of dark hair below his navel. He heard a sound in her throat, purring like a smooth engine. She was smiling and he couldn’t help but notice she was beautiful. She was a bit older, and her skin was tanned from a life in the sun, a few creases around her eyes…but still. Beautiful. Like Capable and the other wives, healthy with pink in their cheeks.

“You’re going to walk behind me little hoon, and you're going to be quiet. I’m going to take you some place where you can rest, where you can heal and you don’t have to be alone. And you’ll learn who you’re going to be.”

“I’m Nux,” he said, making sure to look her in the eye. Its what kept him calm when he was angry, focusing on the eyes, looking at their color. Hers were gray, like stone.

“Not anymore you’re not,” she said, clipping a chain to his collar. It made it twice as heavy and he was forced to hunch over when he finally was released from the wall. She shackled his hands together in front, locking him to her belt and tugged on his leash before they walked from the room.

******** 

She lead him into a dark hallway with rooms on either side. Some doors were open, others were closed with nothing but gates or thick bars blocking the entrance. He saw a room full of War Boys resting on bunks three high. Or what used to be War Boys. He could tell by their scars that they had been at the Citadel, but their skin was tanned from the sun, some were growing hair, and their bodies were covered with black ink; not grease, not ash and oil, but purposeful ink, tattooed symbols, numbers and shapes up and down their arms and legs. There was a boy with a metal hand, like Furiosa’s. He’d worn a leather glove over it for years and Nux recognized him. 

“Klaxon! Klaxon! We thought you’d gone on to the gates, mate!”

The boy looked up briefly, his big brown eyes meeting Nux’s before darting to the ground again.

“We don’t use your Citadel names anymore, little pet. You’ll get a new one when I feel it come to me.” 

“I’m not going to stay here, I have to go home.”

She tugged down hard on the chain, making him stumble forward against her back, the metal cutting into back of his neck.

“You’re hurting my feelings. If you’re not going to say anything nice, then don’t say anything at all. And if you can’t manage that I’ll stuff something in your mouth to shut you up, yeah?”

They walked past another room with bigger windows letting in more sunlight. The walls were scrubbed white, and painted with symbols in different colors, beautiful desert colors – coral and purple and deep blood red. There were women in that room, dressed much like the wives, like Capable, a couple of them round and full with babies like Splendid had been. A short girl with long black hair came to the door and smiled at him.

“He looks like a big boy Eingana. He’s perfect for me. Let me show him how to do it.”

His captor shot the girl a look of disdain, withering even in its silence. The girl shrunk back away from the door, but Nux nodded at her. _Try being friendly_ Capable had told him. _Quit spoiling for a fight._ They continued to walk and he saw that the back of her neck was tattooed.  A black spot surrounded by four half circles, like the petals of a flower.  But beneath the tattoo, the skin was raised and scarred...branded.  She'd been a wife herself.

At the end of the hall was a heavy metal door, locked in two places. She pulled a key from a loop on her belt and pushed it open with two hands.

“Tonight you’ll stay with me. Tomorrow we’ll have to see where you end up.”

*******

She pushed him down onto her bed; a wide, luxurious iron frame covered in bright colored fabrics and thick, soft pillows. He’d never felt such softness in his life. Not even Capable’s hair was like it. Leaving his hands shackled and hooking the free end of his leash chain to a bolt in the wall, she stood, pulling off the heavy belt from her gown.

He was drawn to the detail of the room – tall metal poles holding oil lamps or candles, tiny plants growing in cans and wooden boxes, the metal shelves on the walls holding hundreds of glass bottles and jars, all shapes and sizes, some filled with liquids of different colors, some empty, just filtering the sunlight, scattering rainbows across the walls. It was orange light, late in the afternoon. Another day had gone by and he wasn’t home. He couldn’t even say how long he’d been alone in the darkness, how long since Larry and Barry were cut away.

“Are you sad little pet?”

She stroked his cheek with the back of her hand, down to his throat, his chest, her fingers playing over the scars, pinching his nipples, making him flinch. That made her laugh, but just a little, just for a moment.

“I used to watch the ceremonies from the vault. I could see them holding down the boys, cutting into their perfect young skin. Maybe I saw you.”

“I have to go home. I have to get to Capable,” he said, being sure to talk slowly, to keep his voice low and real, to not lash out and be an animal, don’t rev the engine.

Larry said:

Barry said: 

“You are home now. You’re here in Kununurra. Well. New Kununurra. I don’t know why you boys live in that desert, on those rocks, fighting with the gas boys, the bullet farmers. Here we have rivers, we have the ocean not even two days drive…this is where the world will start again. And we will watch it grow, one child at a time, healthy and strong.”

While she spoke she was changing herself. She pulled the spikes from her hair to let the thick braids and tendrils fall down over her shoulders. Her heavy necklace clipped in the back and she hung it on a hook by the door of her chamber. She moved slow and smooth like the curl snake he’d seen out on the sands when he was a boy. Hypnotising. He was feeling warmer, disoriented, like when the boys chromed without anywhere to go, their engines churning, their hearts hammering, but everything inside, nowhere to explode. 

She knelt behind him on the bed and traced her fingers over his back, the brand on his neck, the scars on his skull. She put her lips on him, wet and warm and he shivered. He was thinking of Capable’s mouth, her smile, her skin, but he didn’t say so. All he could feel was heat all down his back, her body pressed against him. 

“Do you know how to fuck war boy? You ever been inside a woman?”

At that he went perfectly still, his fists clenched so tight that his jagged fingernails dug into his palms. He did know. He knew from seeing. Sometimes the war boys would take women from the ground. Or take them from war parties, the traveling people, lost in the desert. They would bring them up on the lift and take them into the mountain. Sometimes the women were giggling and excited, sometimes crying, begging to leave. Slit would chrome them before they lay down together. He would hear them, first like a fight, a struggle, with straining and groaning, but then he’d hear breathless screaming and laughing and quiet.

He'd heard the boys talking about the wives, talking about fucking with them. The Splendid wife, so tall, so beautiful… _I would split her in two._ The White Wife, … _so feisty that one…_ and the one they all called Pretty Red. Only Nux knew her as Capable. He wouldn’t let them talk that way anymore, about any of them, about what they would do to them.

Then again, sometimes the boys would get restless. “Rumbling in the engine” they’d call it. When there were storms, the stinging rain that came and burned the crops, they’d have to stay inside the rock for days at a time, just boys, just men. Nux would find them paired off in the back of the shops, in the corners, one pressed hard against the other, pushing into him, biting into his shoulder, their pants tangled in a heap on the floor, their white smeared and streaked with finger marks. 

“Or maybe another war boy? Is that what it is? What gets your gear hard, pet?”

He knew the answer because he’d woken up that way – with a rumbling in the engine - thinking of her. When they slept in the back of the rig, her head on his shoulder, and he’d thought of what she would look like, laying beneath him, their skin pressed together, no cloth, no white, nothing, just skin. Hot skin, wet lips, pushing into her. He’d crawled out of the rig to check on the engines then, embarrassed and ashamed.

“Oh look...Something wakes it up.”

She reached in front of him and put her hand on his gear, gripping him tight. “I’m going to use this, war boy. I’m going to keep you here, safe and sound,” she said, stroking him, like priming a pump, up and down, up and down and the engine rumbled. Her lips touched his ear when she whispered to him. “And I’ll feed you well and take care of you and one day I’ll find the perfect girl for you, the perfect match for a boy with eyes like the ocean and long, strong legs. And I’ll put you inside her. I’ll watch you do it, to make certain its done right.” Her strokes were harder, faster and he curled his fingers around the blanket beneath them, biting down on his scarred, numb lip. “We’re building a new world here. But only with the best people. The strongest men, the smartest women.”

She moved to sit beside him and held his face in her hand. “But first I want to try you myself.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Explicit sexual content
> 
> and violence

“I…” he said, looking her right in the eye. "I don't...know..."

She already knew that this was his coping mechanism. It was taught to the boys when they were small. They would focus themselves by putting their foreheads together, staring each other down until their breathing and heart rate were the same, until they thought the same thoughts, felt the same way. So she pressed her forehead to his and then put her mouth against his scarred, dry lips, licking them open with her wet, warm tongue.

“What is it?

She closed her hand around his cock again. It was magnificent, so thick and long, growing even harder in her hand. He stopped breathing, his eyes wide.

“You want to tell me to stop, because you think you’re supposed to, right war boy? Its ok. I know how it aches. How you’re burning from it. You need to drain it.” A drop of clear liquid ran out and she pulled her hand up to lick her fingers clean. He watched her every move, his jaw slack. “And it will feel so good, my blue eyed boy. You won’t believe how good it feels.”

“Rumbling…rumb…” he tried to stutter out words and she smiled at him. “Rumbling in the engine.”

She nodded, pulling his shackled hands up to her mouth and slipping his thick thumb between her lips, dragging her tongue over it. He made a sound that let her know he was nearing the edge so she stopped to kiss him again, to let him feel her tongue in his mouth. After a moment he pushed back, an animalistic growl in his throat, his lips crushing against hers, biting at her bottom lip. His prick stood trapped between them and she stroked it again, faster, still kissing him, listening to his breath shortening, the whine in the motor. Just before coming he bucked hard against her hand, his lips falling away from hers as he threw his head back, staring at the ceiling.

She pushed him onto his back and got up off the bed, letting his seed drip from her hand into a small clear glass bottle that she put on the shelf.

“More…” she heard him say, his voice weak and rasping, breathless. 

She laughed and untied the cloth from around her neck, letting in fall in a puddle at her feet. When she turned he was sitting up, looking down at his cock as if waiting for it to stand up again.

“You need to take a minute to recover, blue eyed boy. But we’ll do it again.” 

His eyes were locked on her naked body. He struggled with his shackled wrists and collar until she put a hand on his thigh and held a finger to her lips.

“Shhhh. Don’t get revved up, boy. These don’t go anywhere unless I say so. This collar is steel and it was soldered on while you slept. It won’t come off until it’s melted off. The shackles will come off when you learn to behave. But you can still use those big hands.” 

He nodded, reaching out to the thatch of golden hair between her legs. She stood closer, letting him smell her, letting him look over the slope of her hips and slim legs, the curve of her ass. He grunted and purred, he pressed his lips to her stomach and she cradled his head in her hands.

“You can touch,” she said, pulling up his wrists. Taking his hand in hers, she ran his fingers through the hair. “Warm, isn’t it?”

His mouth hung open, his damp cock already twitching, growing. She spread her legs a bit and he dutifully reached between them, slipping two fingers into the wetness, stroking with as much gentleness as a war boy could manage. He looked her in the eye as he touched her and she smiled, pushing herself against him, purring low in her throat.

“That feels good, pet. So nice.”

She bent down to kiss him again and he quickly captured her tongue beneath his own. He groaned against her mouth, his fingers slipping inside her. She cried out in surprise as he pushed deeper, his hunger to come again making him frantic. When it became too much he pulled his mouth from hers and breathed heavy in her ear,

“More,”

“My eager boy,” she said, reaching down to stroke him again. 

She was surprised to find a boy so thin, so weak so quick to recover. She knelt on the bed, straddling his hips and guided him inside her.

“Oh…oh chr…oh…” his eyelids fluttered shut as she moved on top of him. He rested his forehead against her breast, growling, hissing through his teeth, his hips bucking up to meet each of his thrusts, his chains and shackles rattling between them.

“Good boy,” she said. “You know how to fuck.”

As his pace increased she lifted his hands and ducked beneath them so he could hold her. In an instant he thrust up hard and flipped her onto her back. Pulling his hands over her head he crushed her throat with his forearm before pulling out and crouching over her.

“I have to get back to Capable,” he said. “I promised her I would follow.”

Her eyes went wide, darting back and forth as her lungs burned for air.

“I can’t….Nu…I can’t…” 

Pinning her to the bed with his body weight, he lifted his arm from her neck and grabbed the chain that held him to the wall, rattling his collar. 

“Cut this off. Let me go. LET ME GO BACK.”

But as soon as she got her breath back she screamed.

“Goshawk! Harrier! Help!”

The door to her chamber burst open and they grabbed him off of her so she could roll away. He struggled in their grip until she stood and walked over to her table of tools and produced a short knife. The sight of the familiar blade made him freeze in place.  It was identical to the knife they used in the scarring rituals, short, thin and sharp, glinting in the light.

“Hold him down,” she said to her guards, once brothers to the man they held between them. 

He thrashed and kicked as they brought him to the bed and pinned him on his stomach. She leaned over to him.

“I don’t like being tricked, or strangled for that matter. Perhaps we took you out too early,” she said. “Maybe you need some more time to think about where you’d be without our help. But just to make sure, we’ll give you a little encouragement to stay where you are.” Crouching on the floor behind him, she drew the blade up each of the soles of his feet. While he screamed in pain she placed a kiss on the back of his head and on the smooth skin between his shoulder blades.

“Don’t worry,” she said. “You’ll learn to behave soon enough.”

She signaled to the guards that they should get him up while pulling on her robe and pinning her hair back in place.

“Bandage him up and chain him down. We’ll see if he’s ready in two days.”

“Yes Eingana,” they said, pulling him down the corridor. “Thank you Eingana.”

And she closed the door behind them.


	5. Broken

He was alone for a long time. On the cold dark floor of the chain room he sat with nothing but his pain, a throbbing pulse in the soles of his feet, up through his belly to the place where Larry and Barry were silent. Back at the Citadel the injured war boys were treated like Gods, their scars exagerrated, emphasized, bandaged and stitched. They were refilled with fresh blood from a full life, cheered on and drugged up. Back at the Citadel he would have bunked down with three cans of chrome and forgotten his wounds, but now his mind was crystal clear. In a day or two, the physical pain would fade a way, leaving nothing but that strange ache in his chest, the tightening in his throat.  Day after day he watched the sun cross the floor of the chain room and knew that the longer he was away, the sooner she would forget him, bury him, find another to take care of her, someone who would keep his promise.

He hoped that BloodBag was with them. He could protect them. He was the better man anyway.

Just not for Capable.

On the third day he heard the door open. In she came in all her bright glowing glory, her skin pale, peach on her cheeks, shining steel spikes like a crown in her hair. Her gown was gauzy white, every outline of her body visible through the fabric as she approached him barefooted and soft, smelling like some kind of…dream, fresh and new smelling, nothing like real life. She crouched in front of him and held his face in her hands, tracing his features with her fingertips.

“My little bluebird. Are you thirsty?”

He nodded and she pulled out a glass bottle filled with clear water. She held it in front of his face and let two or three cool drops run over his cracked lips.

“I would be happy to quench your thirst. But I need something from you.”

She stroked his thigh and he jerked away as if her touch burned. She was a sorceress of some kind, how she’d made his mind go blank, made him feel like an animal overtaken by a hunger he’d never known, had no control over. Her hands, her mouth, her tongue had made him lightheaded, dizzy and euphoric, like the first taste of the chrome, rippling through his body, waves and waves. He’d never felt anything like it. And as much as he’d craved it again the moment it was over, he was afraid. Because when she touched him, when she so easily slipped his gear inside her body, smooth and wet, he wasn’t thinking of Capable. And he knew that was wrong.

“Wh-what?”

Her thumb ran over his mouth, his cheek. He closed his eyes to try and imagine someone else.

"An apology of course. And a promise not to misbehave for me in the future,” she said. Then, leaning in close, pressing her warm cheek against his, she said “Because I like you, bluebird. I like how you feel inside me. You're a good fit.”

 Her hand moved down, down over his belly and his breath caught in his throat, a cry escaping his lips as she pulled out one of the dark hairs below his navel.

“I’m…I—I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m sorry I hurt you.”

“Say, I’m sorry Eingana,” she whispered, bringing the water back to his mouth.

“I’m sorry…Eingana.”

She poured the water in, over his dry tongue, down his throat. He gulped it down until his stomach cramped. He was still thirsty, but she pulled it away.

“Now say, I love you Eingana.”

He paused.  He looked into her eyes and the sun caught them just right, reflecting them back green, green and glittering.  And all he could think of was fiery red hair blowing in the wind, and her head on his shoulder and her fingers on his lips and for the first time in forever he felt his heart breaking.  Eingana tipped her head to the side and her eyes went silver gray again, dark like the storm clouds that choked the desert.

"Capable," was all he could say.

She grabbed his face, squeezing his jaw tight to hold his attention as she poured the water out onto the floor, breaking the glass into a thousand shards at his feet.

"Then you'll stay here a little longer, bluebird.  I'll be back soon to see if you have anything more to say."

*****

The sun crossed the floor another two times before anyone came back.  The longer he was alone, without Chrome, without fire and fighting and the constant rhythm of the drums echoing through the shops the more he could remember things.  He'd had friends at the Citadel.  Not just Slit or Wobble but the boys in his squad. He could remember the little battalion of pups and repair boys he'd trained, taught to drive, how to arm the spears, designed their war paint, told them stories about Valhalla.  As much as Immortan tried to keep them soulless, nothing but raging warriors, they'd all managed to find families.  They found friends, some found lovers, people who depended on them, looked out for them.  People who missed them. Those things always found a way.

It was night when the door opened and his heart sped up, beads of sweat on his forehead.  And even after nearly a week his gear twitched, started to swell before his eyes.

But it wasn't Eingana.  It was the dark haired girl that he'd seen in the Mother's Room.  She stood in the doorway in her thin white gown then quickly moved across the floor like a ghost, looking over her shoulder before putting a finger to her lips to indicate he should be quiet.

"I'm just supposed to check on your feet, make sure you're healing."

He pulled his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them trying his best to disappear. The girl put her hand over his and sat next to him, her shoulder pressed against him.  But it was different from when Eingana touched him.  This was just...touch.

"But I brought you something.  It will help you -- it'll keep you from--misbehaving.  It makes life easier. The girls call it The Fuzz."

From the pocket of her gown she produced a tiny glas vial full of clear liquid, then a plastic packet that she she tore open with her teeth, a syringe.

"Eingana keeps this in her chambers," she said, drawing the liquid up into the syringe.  It caught the glow of the moonlight as she held it up, flicking it with two fingers, squirting a couple of drops from the needle. "She has all kinds of medicine, you wouldn't believe it.  Real medicine, real pills and syrups like they used in the before time.  She gives this to the girls when they're pushing out the babies.  They scream bloody murder until the needle goes in, then they're fine."

Without warning she jabbed the needle into his arm and covered his mouth with her hand while he screamed. 

"Shhh...I'm not supposed to be here, Bluebird."

He was instantly warm, instantly at peace, already forgetting what was wrong with staying here, what was wrong with feeling good. He closed his eyes and sighed, laying his head against the wall.

"You have to behave," the girl said, running her hand over his scalp.  It felt good.  It reminded him of a time...a long long ago time when someone used to sing to him before he fell asleep. "I've seen the boys who misbehave.  I've seen their bodies thrown out for the scavenger birds.  She thinks she's some sort of savior.  Mama Eingana, we're supposed to call her. She's as bad as Immortan if you ask me."

As soon as she said the words he felt her whole body go stiff.  She inched away from him, shaking her head and he watched, the Fuzz like a heavy silken blanket he didn't want to crawl out of.

"I mean...I don't mean to say the Immortan is....I just don't --"

Finally he realized that she was worried he would punish her.  He shook his head and managed half a smile.

"He's dead.  Immortan's dead.  He was just a man, no different than any of us. And now he's gone.  You don't have to worry anymore." He turned his head to try and smile at her, to reassure her, but it just seemed like too much work.

"You're falling out, Bluebird.  Lay down so you don't get hurt."

She eased him down to the ground, helping him to find a comfortable position to sleep.  For a few moments she rubbed his back, watching his eyelids flutter, the drugs digging deeper and deeper.

"Just promise me War Boy.  Promise me you'll be good.  Do what Mama Eingana tells you to do and you'll be safe.  You'll get out and you'll get to go home."

**********

Eingana came back the next day.  In one hand was a bottle of water, in the other a leash. 

"Did you sleep well Bluebird?" She asked, pulling the lever to adjust the chains. "You have a lesson today and I want to make sure you're going to behave."

"I will Eingana."

"Oh good," she said, clipping the leash to his chain.  "Because today you get to keep me company in the work room," she said, giving a tug to the chain to pull him to his feet."Today you get to watch."

The pain on his open wounds was unbearable and the Fuzz had long worn off.  Without asking for permission he crumpled to the floor at her feet, shaking his head clear, trying to refocus.

"Oh my bird, I forgot all about your...little problem."  

She walked around him as if considering her options from every angle, then poured some of the distilled alcohol she'd been carrying over the soles of his healing feet.  He cried out, grabbing her leg with both hands, looking up into her smiling face.

"Please Eingana, please.  No more."

She nodded solemnly and patted his head before giving his leash a gentle tug. "Very well little Bluebird.  Today I'll permit you to crawl."


	6. The Work Room

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Voyeurism and Explicit Sexual Content Within.

 

He followed behind her, crawling on the cold stone floor, down the hallway with war boys and women watching every step, not daring to laugh, not daring to breathe, knowing that tomorrow it could just as easily be them. He looked but couldn’t see the dark haired girl who’d brought him the Fuzz and now his head was pounding as it cleared his system.

Eingana brought him to her chambers again, clipping his leash to the same bolt in the wall, setting him down on his knees in the middle of the floor.

“I’ll see you in a bit angel. Damsel will get you ready for me.”

That was when the dark haired girl slipped from the shadows out of the far corner of the room.  Eingana drew her in close and whispered instructions before leaving the two of them alone.

She said nothing, not about her visit in the night, or the Fuzz or what she was meant to be doing; only brought out a big bowl of soapy water and sat on the floor behind him.  With a wet rag she cleaned his back, his arms, squeezed out rivulets of water over his head and washed his face and the wound on his shoulder with gentle strokes.

 “Thank you,” he said.

 She nodded, cleaning his chest, stomach, but when she moved to stroke between his legs he grabbed her wrist to stop her.

 “Undo the chain,” he whispered, leaning in close so only she could hear. “Let me go and I’ll take you back with me. We can go home.”

 She shook her head and backed away from him, putting the wet rag in his hands.

 “Clean yourself.  Well.  She’ll check before she fucks you and I’ll be trouble if you aren’t clean.”

 Damsel stood up and went back to the corner she’d appeared from.  He did as she asked, scrubbing down thoroughly if only to feel the warm water seep into his skin. She came back with water and a plate with bread and dried meat – and a syringe.

 “I can’t let you go, Nux. We wouldn’t make it out alive,” she said, sitting close to him, speaking softly as she prepped the needle.  “But I can make it easier for you.”

 She jabbed the needle into his thigh, plunging twice the fuzz into his system.  While the drug made its way to his heart she held his face in her hands, focusing on his eyes. Already he felt warm and light, the floor melting away.

 “Just do what she asks, behave yourself.  I’ll do what I can to get you back to her.”

 ********

When Eingana came back she was wearing only her harvester belt and skirt, her necklace hanging heavy between her breasts, her dark rosy nipples hardened in the cold.  He hair was unpinned, unbraided, loose and shining in waves down her back.  Nux stared at her, his eyes slow to focus, but riveted to her beauty, the way she lit up the room, her presence, her smell, the power in her voice.

“Oh my Bluebird, you look so pretty.”

“Thank you,” he said.

She took his leash and wrapped it around her hand, pulling him up to his hands and knees.

“You’ll be so much more comfortable in the work room.  Then we can have some fun.”

*********

The work room wasn’t much different from her chambers, a wide wrought iron bed covered in pillows and fabrics in a million different colors, thick and sumptuous. There was a table with water and a bowl of fresh berries, dripping white candles in black iron holders.  Thin dusty windows at the top of the room let in the morning sunlight in long white shafts that lit up Eingana’s corner of the room, a nest of cushions and blankets, bright woven rugs spread over the stone floor.  She lead Nux to the corner and bolted him to the wall, leaving his hands unshackled.

 “Make yourself comfortable, Bluebird.  Our guests will be here shortly.”

 Every blink was long, his eyeballs dried out and stinging.  All he wanted was to lay down on the cushions and sleep for days. The Fuzz felt like it was liquefying him, rounding his edges.  Eingana sat down beside him and stretched out on her side, laying her head in his naked lap.  Her hair fanned out over his skin, long ribbons of it curled around his cock. He couldn’t help but touch it, run his hand through it like he did with Capable, her hair so shiny, smooth under his fingers.  His skin tingled, rippled with goosebumps.  Eingana reached her hand up around his neck and pulled his mouth down to hers, kissing him deeply, her tongue warm and wet, sliding over his, her lips velvety smooth against his own scars, her fingers tickling over the skin on the back of his neck.  He felt himself growing warmer, that need in his belly, the rumbling in the engine.  Kissing.  He wanted to keep kissing her, pressing into her, touching her hair, but she broke away too soon.  Her cheeks were bright pink, eyes shining.  He touched her mouth with his fingertips and she smiled.

 “They can come in.  We’re ready for them!” she called out.

Two doors opened on either side of the room.  On one end was a Boy Nux recognized.  Scald was younger than him, but broader, strong arms and thighs.  His chest wasn’t yet scarred so he was under twenty five, but markings on his bicep meant he was a lancer or at least hoping to be.  He, too, was naked but for a thin metal collar and strode over to the bed, turning and bowing to Eingana.

“Hello little Honeyeater.  Are you ready to rebuild the world today?” she asked, still lounging in Nux’s lap, running her fingers along his bare leg, making his blood hot beneath the skin, bubbling through his pipes.

“Yes Eingana,” he said, turning to the other open door.

A woman walked in, naked but for a necklace similar to Eingana’s, although far less ornate.  She was small, with thin, curvy legs and hips, her hair long and red, tied so it hung like a tail down her back. Nux’s breath caught in his throat looking at her.  She had the same peachy cream skin, rosy lips, the hair between her legs matching the red gold color of the hair on her head – not the same color as Capable…but so close…

 “It looks like I know your type, Bluebird, don’t I?” Eingana said, smiling. “I know who your Pretty Red is.  She replaced me when I was released to the ground.”

With that, Eingana stood and walked over to the girl, taking off her necklace and hanging it on the wall.  They exchanged some quiet words, the girl looking over at Nux and nodding, finally bowing when all of her instructions were received. 

“Won’t these two make a beautiful baby, Bluebird?”

He nodded, shifting his position to try and hide his arousal.  He cleared his mind, to try and think only of Capable, to be good, but the Fuzz took over, telling him he could find release with anyone, with this girl, with Eingana, with Damsel…women were everywhere, and they could all make him explode like Eingana had. 

She returned to the nest, sitting apart from him, watching the two breeders approach each other.  The Honeyeater eyed her like prey, his cock already hard as he stroked it slowly.  The girl smiled nervously and climbed onto the bed, going up on all fours so he could mount her from behind.  Nux’s breath was heavy, like he couldn’t draw in enough, couldn’t fill his lungs as he watched the girl turn and look over her shoulder, smiling right at him.

“Oh no…no.  Don’t do it like that!” Eingana called out. “She’s not ready for you.  You don’t want to split her in half with that thing, do you boy?”

He shook his head and the girl flipped over, sitting on the edge of the bed, her hands in her lap.

“Tell me Bluebird, what should he do first?  To make sure she’s warm enough for him, open and wet like I was.”

Nux felt his cheeks flush red thinking about it, how she felt sliding down on him, rolling her hips against his.  He thought about the girl on the bed, what he would do if he could be with her, with Capable.  CAPABLE.  The drug made the words slow to his lips, but he knew what he wanted to say.

“Kiss her, “ he said quietly.  “Kiss her mouth, use your tongue.”

The Honeyeater approached the girl and, fisting her hair in one huge hand, bent her head backwards to kiss her hard on the mouth.  Nux could see their tongues slipping together, the girl mewling with pleasure, putting her arms around the War Boy to pull him onto the bed, her fingernails dragging up his back leaving pink stripes in their wake.  Nux watched, his jaw slack, licking his own bottom lip, imagining what it would be like to finally see Capable again, to grab her like The Honeyeater had grabbed this girl, and show her how much he'd missed her, pressing his body against hers...

The two stopped kissing and the girl ran her hands over his chest, down to his belly, the tight v of muscles at his hips.  She looked up at her mate through her long, dark eyelashes, a mischievous smile on her shining wet lips. 

"Ah ah!" Eingana called out, moving to sit closer to her Bluebird, seeing that he was already hard, already entranced by the coupling she'd arranged. "What should happen next, Bluebird?" she whispered into Nux's ear, her lips touching the skin, her tongue teasing the soft spot on his neck. "Should she do something for him?"

His mind was deafening with ideas, with what he wanted, what they wanted, what Eingana wanted, what was possible. He closed his eyes and saw the things he'd seen at the Citadel, Slit and Clatch and the others with women in their bunks.  He'd watched them when they thought he was sleeping, crashed off the Chrome. It had gotten his gear hard but he'd never done anything with it.  Now he knew. So he focused his thoughts, quieted them, to imagine it was him and that she was her, and they were alone.

"Touch him," he said, quietly, almost to himself.

Eingana smiled, leaning over to stroke his hardened prick.  He gasped, opening his eyes.

"I don't think they heard you Bluebird."

"Touch him, where he's hard.  Feel it," he said, breathing deep, staying calm.  "Put your hand around it."

The girl smiled at Nux and leaned closer to the man, reaching out to touch him, stroking his gear with a practiced hand, making him groan, his back arching as he thrust his hips against her fingers.  Eingana slowed her strokes and spoke to him again,

"Do you think she's ready to get fucked yet, Bluebird?" She asked, licking the shell of his ear, sucking the lobe between her teeth.

"Y-you were warm...silk.  Wet," he said, turning to look at her.  He wanted to touch her again, to feel her insides clench around him, but when he moved his hand towards her she shook her head.

"Not yet, boy.  Not until our guests are done.  Tell him what to do."

"Touch her," he said, "put your fingers inside her to see if she's ready." The Honeyeater nodded and moved between the girl's legs, holding them open and stroking her with two fingers.  Without thinking, Nux yelled out to him, his voice desperate. "Move! Move so I can see her."

The girl watched Nux face while The Honeyeater fucked her with two thick fingers. He could see the soft pink of her pussy, the man's fingers shining with her wetness as they moved in and out.

"Oh," Nux groaned at the sight of it.  Eingana kept stroking him, but he covered her hand with his own, urging her to go faster, harder...to push him to the edge.

The girl on the bed whined,"oh please," she said, throwing her head back, her legs falling open wider. "Please put it in...I'm ready."

Nux felt the pressure building low in his belly, the same swirling heat all through his body.  He bucked against Eingana's hand.

"F-fuck her.  Fuck her," he said. "Hard."

The Honeyeater pulled her to the edge of the bed, positioning himself between her legs. She put her heels on his shoulders as he pushed into her, the two of them moaning as they fused. His hips snapped hard against the girls thighs, her breasts shook, she bit down on her bottom lip.

"I...I need..." Nux stuttered, feeling it throbbing inside him, the need to explode. 

The Honeyeater hammered harder, the girl cried out, begging him for more.

"What do you need, Bluebird?" she asked, crawling within his reach. 

He was on her in an instant, his mouth closed over hers, one hand on her throat, one between her legs, sunk deep in her wet silk.  And all she did was smile.

"Show me, Bluebird. Show me what you need."

The couple on the bed neared their climax, groans and moans mingled with the sound of their skin, the squeak of the mattress. Nux pushed into her...one deep stroke, wet, hot, squeezing around him.  He kissed her again, licked and sucked at the skin of her throat while he thrust into her.

"I need to explode...like I...like you..."

"I know boy, I know you do," she said, pushing him off of her and onto his back. The Honeyeater and his girl were finished, laying spent on the bed, now watching them. Eingana climbed onto him and rolled her hips, putting Nux's hands on her breasts, his rough fingertips brushing over her hardened nipples. She moved faster.

"Wrasse," she called out to the girl. "Come help us, darling."

Nux felt the waves, the engine rumbling, he was going to come.  Wrasse approached him, kneeling at his shoulder.  She bent down to kiss him, a different taste from Eingana, sweeter, wetter.  Now there were four hands on him, long fingers stroking his skin, Eingana moving faster, the girl's breasts pressed against his chest. He cried out just before Eingana told him,

"Now you can come, Bluebird."

And he exploded inside her, like a snapped spring, a radiator burst open.  He screamed like he used to driving into battle, every ounce of his energy, his life force, bursting from every cell.  He pulled Wrasse down and held her tight to his chest, stroking her red hair, burying his nose in it as he tried to catch his breath.

"Thank you," he said. "Thank you."

The two women lay on either side of him, their legs and arms tangled together, sweating, sticky.  He looked over at the bed where The Honeyeater was already asleep.

The room was quiet, only the sound of ragged breathing.  Nux looked up at the ceiling, gray cement, lit by the sunlight; felt the heavy thick collar cutting into the skin of his neck.  As soon as the euphoria of his orgasm appeared it was gone, and in its place was endless loneliness.

And once again, he closed his eyes.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eingana is the Aboriginal Mother Goddess of all Creation. 
> 
> In the form of a giant black snake she gave birth to every living thing on the earth and holds the umbilical cord for each of them. When the umbilical cord is severed, that creature dies.
> 
> https://broomcloset.wordpress.com/tag/aboriginal-goddesses/


	7. Bluebird

Eingana knew the boy would be insatiable.  The War Boys always went through a phase once they learned how to really use the gear the gods gave them.  Once they sunk their cocks into a hot, wet snatch they couldn't get enough of it, and she kept them in steady supply.  Half of them, the younger ones, barely understood that they could impregnate a pretty girl with their crank so they didn't know enough to protest their slavery.  And once the children they sired were born - healthy, beautiful, ten fingers, ten toes, all their features in the right place, Eingana took them to the sea shore, where the boats took them to the The California Islands and sold them for thousands.

And the cycle started all over again.

As soon as the girls got their shit together and were ready to get back in the ring.

So when her beautiful blue eyed war boy with his thick, heavy cock fell so easily under her spell she was...pleased to say the least.  The breaking in period was always fun, she was entertained by watching them suffer, begging for forgiveness, for relief -- but there was something odd in his submission - how easily it came. The first time he'd pinned her on her back, when she'd seen so much life in his half dead eyes, fiery with the demand to let him go, she'd thought they were going to have some fun, some back and forth, a real battle.  He'd given her a quiver of arousal deep in her belly that she hadn't had in years.  A sudden possessiveness, a need to keep him all to herself, regardless of her final purpose.  The fight was what made her wet.

But then he'd broken in an instant. A few days in solitary, a few cuts on his feet and he was back to being a War Boy zombie, the life gone from his eyes, the color gone from his cheeks.  The only time she'd seen him spark was in the work room, when his cock ached, when he he was trembling with the need to fuck. Then as soon as it was done, he went blank again, limp on the floor, a tired dog at her feet.  She lead him back to her chambers and told him he could do what he liked, thinking he'd want more of her. Instead he curled up on his side on her bed, his fingers curled into a fist, rubbing them over his scarred lips until his eyes closed and he fell asleep.

Damsel appeared at the door with the tray of food and water for their evening meal.  Bluebird would be staying in her chambers for a while, just until she was sure he was ready to do his job, or until she decided if he would do his job at all.  She put the tray down and stood in the doorway, her hands folded behind her back. She saw him on the bed, sleeping literally like a baby, his fist in his mouth, legs curled up to his belly.

"Mama Eingana," she said. "Pikey Bream thinks she's having contractions.  I asked her how far apart they were and she said she wanted to see you, she doesn't know how to count time."

"Watch my boy, won't you Damsel?" Eingana said, stroking her Bluebird's leg, running two fingers up the sole of his foot where little dots of blood had seeped through the bandage. "Change his bandages," she said, putting on her robe and making her way to the door. "Make sure he eats something, gets his strength up for the night."

"Yes Mama," she said, bowing as she left the room.

******

Damsel sat down beside Nux, running her hand over his head as he stared out at the bottles on the shelf in front of him.  For the first time he noticed the jars, at least ten of them, sickly yellow liquid and the bodies of tiny unborn babies, faded to white, curled into themselves, dark eyes sealed shut.  The sun shined through them, lighting them like angels. On some of the larger ones he could see the bones through the transluscent flesh.

"Are you hungry?" she asked.

He shook his head, still rubbing his knuckles over his lips, trying to remember exactly what it felt like, the tingling that ran all through his blood when Capable touched him in the back of the rig, when she'd kissed his forehead before heading back up to the crow's nest, promising to keep him safe.  He should have been the one promising _her_. He should have been the one keeping watch while _she_ hid in the darkness.  _Mediocre._

"Did she hurt you today?"

"No," he said, finally turning onto his back, staring at her. "We fucked." He said it with as much enthusiasm as reporting on a tire change. "We watched the others, a girl with red hair...light red..."

"Wrasse," Damsel said. "She's ovulating."

"What?" Nux asked, sitting up, resting back on his elbows.

"She's ready to get pregnant.  Eingana wants a baby inside her before the next moon."

She sighed and got up, pouring him a small glass of water before going to get the bandages, tape and warm water.  He drank, leaning against the wall, watching the sun dip low in the sky while she took off the old bandages and cleaned his wounds. The sight of the white cloth winding around his feet reminded him of the piece of Capable he once had.  It had smelled like her. It was damp with her sweat for a while, one of her long crimson hairs had woven itself into the fabric.  When he'd hidden on the rig he'd tried to return it to her, to apologize for tearing her clothes, but she'd wrapped it around his hand instead, where a hot iron pipe had burned his skin while he climbed beneath the truck.  Their foreheads had touched while she did it, and he felt warm, too warm while she'd touched him so gently, her breath on his forearm. For a minute he'd thought about touching her face, her lips with his lips. Now he'd never get to feel it.

"How long have I been here?" He asked, thinking it had been at least four days, maybe five.  He couldn't remember.  It had been almost a week since he'd chromed and his mind was muddy.  The chrome kept their attention sharp, heightened, focused on nothing but Immortan and V8. Now his brain swirled with thoughts from every corner, every emotion he had.  Sadness, Anger, Revenge, Lust, Love, Exhaustion, Confusion, others that he couldn't name because he'd never felt them before.

"Nine days," Damsel said, finishing up the bandages on his healing feet. "You'll be paired soon."

She cleaned up her supplies and went back to her corner. When she came back she held her familiar syringe, only half full, but enough to keep him fuzzed through the night.  As she approached the bed, Nux sat up, turning his arm out to receive the numbness. 

"What's this my little conspirators?" Eingana walked in before Damsel could administer the shot. "She's helping you hide from me? Am I that terrible?"

Damsel stood frozen, her thumb on the plunger, the needle in the air.  Eingana took the syringe from her, depressing the plunger down, the few drops of liquid streaming out from the needle and soaking into the bed. Then, without a word she closed her hand around the girl's throat, squeezing until her eyes bulged, her face red and tight.  Damsel grabbed at the woman's grip with both hands, her legs wobbling as her body used up its remaining oxygen.  But before Eingana could kill her Nux jumped from the bed, up onto his feet that screamed with pain, and reaching to the very end of his leash, the metal collar cutting deep into his throat, he grabbed Eingana around the waist pulling her down onto the bed, his forearm crushing her throat as he straddled her.

"Stop! STOP!"

Damsel collapsed to the floor, coughing, folded over herself as she sucked in deep breaths.

"I told her to get it for me. I...hurt her," he said. "When she came to the chain room. She was doing it so I wouldn't hurt her again. Right Damsel?" Damsel looked up at him, her eyes wide with confusion, but still she nodded, rubbing her throat where long narrow finger marks were blooming on her skin. "So if you're going to punish anyone, punish me." He let Eingana breathe, sitting back on his heels, his chain straining at the collar.

******

She smiled at him, a crooked, dark smile. There was her wild animal. Of course she knew he was lying. He was too innocent to be any good at it. He'd never had to shroud the truth from anyone, all he did was drive and kill. Still, his confession gave her a good excuse to keep him close to her, between her legs, inside her, wrapped around her at night, her pretty Bluebird, his aqua eyes flaring with anger. And despite his gallant rescue, Damsel would be punished as well. 

"You're right Bluebird. Let me up." When he didn't move, she bucked her hips up against him and immediately his cheeks flared red. He climbed off of her and stood beside the bed, his hands at his side, fists clenching, unclenching, his eyes flicking from woman to woman. "Shhhhh," Eingana said, stroking his cheek. "Calm yourself boy. So tense. It's over now." Then without warning she punched him in the gut with such force that he nearly bent in half, falling backwards onto the bed.

She looked at Damsel who was now standing, staring at the floor, her arms crossed over her stomach, tears falling onto the stone floor.

"Damsel, you'll spend the night with Goshawk, serving him in any way he sees fit, do you understand me?"

"Yes Mama Eingana."

She grabbed the young girl's chin, forcing her to look up and into her eyes. "And if you're in pain tomorrow morning, your cunt aching from his punishment? You can thank Bluebird for your lack of morphine. Do you understand me?"

"Yes Mama Eingana."

She smiled and kissed her forehead, smoothing her hair like a mother sending her child off for a day at school.

"Now go. It's time for little Bluebird to do his penance."

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

He didn't back down.

Watching Damsel leave the room - her head hanging low, her hair a curtain hiding the sadness and fear on her face, taking her punishment for helping him - he was angry.

The collar was heavy around his neck, fists clenching at his sides.

Eingana brought out a bottle with gold amber liquid in it. She took a sip from it and held it to his lips.

"Drink, Bluebird. It'll soften you up up a little," she said, tipping it against his mouth. "Before I get you nice and hard again."

He let the burning drink fill his mouth. Like sweet guzzoline - like the wine they drank at scarring ceremonies. But instead of swallowing it he spat it back in her face. For a moment they were both still, his eyes locked on hers, the liquid glistening like little jewels on her eyelashes, dripping from her lips. He watched as, in a breath, her eyes went dark, an angry clouded gray. Very slowly she reached her hand around the back of his neck, pulling his forehead to hers, staring deep into his eyes.

"That wasn't very nice, Bluebird," she said, her other hand snaking down to grip his balls.

"My name is Nux."

"Your collar belongs to me and I say your name is Bluebird now."

Still holding their foreheads together she squeezed his balls in her other hand, just enough to get his attention, uncomfortable pressure, the threat of pain.

"I brought you here. I saved your life out in the desert and I intend to keep you until I've had my fill."

She twisted him,pulling and squeezing harder, making him feel it deep in his stomach, a wave of nausea that made his mouth water. And still he kept his eyes on her, showing no fear, no pain.

"You seem like a boy with a big heart though, little Bluebird. A boy who wants to do the right thing. So I'll give you a choice."

Harder. Tighter. Sweat prickled on his forehead, the collar biting into the back of his neck, her breath hot on his chest.

"You apologize to me, tell me that you love me, that you want me - and you can stay here, in my chambers, and be mine alone." Still torturing his gear with one hand, she leaned in to press a kiss to his nipple, swirling her tongue around it as it stiffened. "Or you can continue this ridiculous rebillion and I'll force your pretty prick into every girl here, every day, until I get your seed planted. Every. Girl. You can listen to them screaming, begging you to stop. You can feel them cry while you push into them, see them bleed on you when you open them for the first time. You can listen while they call you a monster, a rapist - worse...than...Immortan."

The word was like poison. He could picture Capable's face in front of him, how she hated him. She told Nux what he did, how he hurt them all, forcing his seed inside them, making them bleed. Immortan was a rapist - Capable's rapist. He didn't even know the word until she taught it to him. And he knew he woud never be like that.

Belonging to Eingana gave him a better chance at escape - and if he obeyed her for a while he could try and save Damsel too. That's what Bloodbag would do and Bloodbag's fuel ran through him, giving him the strength, the courage to do it.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I just didn't want you to punish Damsel."

She released her grip on him, allowing him to talk. He sat down hard on the edge of the bed, gasping for air, for relief, pain pulsing between his legs. She handed him the liquor bottle and he drank before standing again, holding both of her hands in his own.

"And I don't want to fuck anyone but you," he said, looking down into her expectant face. All that strength, all that power and anger and dominance over him and she was nearly two hands shorter.  "I'll be your Bluebird, Eingana. Only yours." He said, bowing his head.

"Because..." she asked, smiling, knowing every word from his mouth was a lie, but liking the sound of it anyway.

"Because I love you."

"Good boy," she said, pulling his chain down so she could kiss him. "Now we can kiss and make up.  And I'll teach you how to show me that you love me."

*******

She pushed him down onto the bed, laying on his back and sat beside him, running her hands up his legs, over his belly.  Her fingers trailed over his cock, his balls, still tender from her punishment.

"Did I hurt you Bluebird?" She asked, laying down on her side, curling up next to him, her hand around his shaft, waking his cock with her fingertips. He wasn't sure if he was supposed to answer, and he'd decided that he was done with fighting for the moment. But before he could answer she whispered to him, her voice husky in his ear. "Should I kiss it and make it better?"

She turned his face to hers and kissed him, easing his mouth open with her tongue, letting him breathe in her lust for him. He reacted eagerly, easily pulling her on top of him with one arm around her waist.  Even through his pain he could feel his gear getting hard, responding to her touch, her kiss.  He found comfort in it, peace in feeling nothing but arousal, nothing but the need to come.

But she took her hand away, focusing instead on kissing his scars, on his cheeks, on his temples, running her tongue over the lines of his V8, down the etchings on his bicep, sucking his fingers deep into her mouth. He groaned, his cock impossibly hard, but when he attempted to pull her onto him, to drive up into her, she slapped his hands away.

"Don't touch or I won't let you touch," she said, her tongue trailing down to his belly, the dark line of hair below his navel.  He reached down to touch her hair and her head snapped up, her eyes fiery. "I told you not to touch, Bluebird."

She pulled herself up to straddle him and pulled his hands over his head. On the table beside her bed was a thick leather belt like the War Boys wore in the shops, short steel spikes running along the center.  She wrapped it around his wrists, the spikes digging into his skin and buckled it to the iron bar of her headboard. Even the slightest struggle made the spikes dig deeper, causing more pain. He learned in an instant that it was better to just leave his hands where they were. She kissed the insides of his forearms, then slid down his body again until she lay between his legs.  

His cock ached, the slightest touch, the stream of her breath, the stroke of her hair running over it nearly set him off.  He watched, wide eyed as she put her lips on him, swirling her hot tongue around the head of his prick, blowing a cool stream of air over it.  He cried out, his hips bucking up against her mouth. 

"Easy Bluebird, don't come yet," she whispered, licking the length of his shaft. "I'll tell you when you can come." She opened her mouth and took him deep into her throat. He groaned, he swore, his fingernails dug into the leather of his bindings. Again he thrust up into into her mouth as her fingers dragged over his chest, leaving a trail of red marks behind.  His orgasm built, a tightening in his balls, in his belly, heat in the small of his back, his whole body tense, his nerve endings on fire.  He fucked her throat harder, looking at the golden fan of her hair spread out over his stomach, her eyes looking up at him, glassy with want. 

"Let me come," he said, his voice weak and breathy. "Please Eingana.  Please let me come."

She pulled back, saliva dripping from her swollen, shining lips, but she didn't give him permission. He strained against the leather, bucked against her hand but she only smiled, moving up his body until she straddled his throat. He could smell her, feel the heat coming off of her, the damp hair between her legs brushing against his chin.

"You don't get to come until I get to come," she said. She tipped forward and said "Lick," her hands stroking his scalp, holding him against her. 

His tongue flicked out at her wetness, tentative, light. But at the salty musky taste of her lips he knew he needed to lick deeper, to stroke between the silky warm folds of her core, kissing and sucking at her tender skin, coating his tongue with her juices. She moaned, holding his face against her cunt, grinding against his serpent tongue.  Like he had with his fingers, he found her clit with his lips, sucking it into his mouth, flicking it with the tip of his tongue until he felt her thighs trembling.  She let her hands fall away, holding herself up with her hands fisted into the blanket.

"Yes...oh fuck you're good," she said, her voice barely audible, her heart beating in her ears.  As he plunged deeper inside her she felt the white heat of her climax building, her muscles clenching around his tongue as he fucked her with his mouth. She rolled her hips over him, her own fingers finding her clit, feeling his tongue slip in and over, swirling around her.  The orgasm hit and her back arched into a bow, her breath hitched in her lungs, the whole world white, her blood rushing, pumping.  She fell to the side, letting the waves roll over her, through her, letting him hold her against his chest as she came down.

"Good boy," she said. "You're a quick learner."

"Please," was all he could say, but she knew what he needed and returned to his prick, easing it between her legs, lowering herself onto his thick length, slowly rolling her hips against his.

"Now," she said, moving faster, reaching back to run her fingers over his tightening balls. "Now you can come, good boy."

He thrust up into her hard and she pushed back, pulling him almost entirely out and then sliding back down again, her moves agonizing and delicious. Their rhythm built faster, harder. He growled like a beast, his eyes bright and shining, beautiful blue. When she knew he was close she bent over him and kissed him, feeling him stiffen, his heat filling and spreading inside her, tasting herself in his kiss, his muscles rippling and flexing beneath her.

"Fuck.  Fuck," he said, trying to catch his breath. "Thank you. Thank you."

He kissed her again and she unbound his hands, rubbing them back to life, kissing the tender skin of his wrists. After a few moments, both of them were recovered and exhausted the room silent but for the sound of their breathing. She stood and cleaned him with a wet cloth and gave him water before extinguishing the oil lamps.  Blue moonlight shone through the windows and she pulled the blanket up over them both, resting her head on his chest.

"You'll like being my Bluebird," she said, drifting off to sleep.

He looked out the window at the waning moon, remembering sitting in the back of the truck wtih Capable, listening to her stories about the stars. It was getting harder and harder to remember the exact smell of her hair.

Eingana's hair, long and golden, was spread out over him like a twisting river, her leg hooked around his, her breath a warm stream over his belly.  Without thinking he slipped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her against him, knowing he'd sleep better feeling more of her skin against his.

 


	9. Damsel's Punishment Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> These are two supplemental chapters having nothing to do with Nux. At the request of a reader who, purely for science, wanted to know what happened to poor Damsel when she went to spend the night with Goshawk. Turns out her vicious punishment isn't all that bad. 
> 
> This chapter includes graphic, explicit sex, rough sex, breath play, blood and dubious consent.

Before Bluebird, there was Goshawk, living in Eingana’s chambers as her favorite toy, so utterly entranced by her beauty and her cunt that he didn’t even have to be leashed. He stayed, he behaved on his own accord, doing whatever his Glowing Eingana asked of him. Of course he’d impregnated a few of the girls she chose for him, but always while watching her watch him, and always going to her bed afterwards, still smelling of the women he’d been inside. He was older than most, an old War Boy. He could remember the days before the great war and then the moment when suddenly everything went to hell and he had nowhere to go; until Immortan gave him a place to go. Then, when a GasTown war party attacked the Rig on the Fury Road he’d attempted to drive his own car into it, his lancer throwing the boomsticks, running them off towards the rocks, but instead it was the two of them who had wrecked, a complete embarrassment to the rig crew, to the V8, to Immortan himself. So they made no attempt to crawl back for forgiveness. Instead, he and his lancer stayed out in the desert, broken, burnt and waiting to die.

That’s when she found them, and brought them to New Kununurra. She’d liked his broad chest and green eyes, jaw square, but his lips so soft and pretty and they made a beautiful smile. Being nearly thirty he was fully scarred; arms, chest, back, even the sides of his neck had matching detailed drawings of a distributor, the long curved scar from a fight like a crescent moon beside his left eye, no symbolism but pain. She’d given him the name Goshawk because of the strength in his legs and seeing similar abilities in his partner she’d called his lancer Harrier. Now they were her security detail, sometimes riding out with her to find breeders, going into the towns to find young, healthy girls interested in steady work, willing to leave home, to leave someplace worse, hoping for somewhere better. They found Goshawk convincing when he wasn’t whitened, covered in war paint; instead just a tall, muscular man, glittering eyes and short dark hair shaved close to the head. They’d all ridden to the compound on the back of his bike hoping they’d be paired up with him.

But that was a mistake. Because Goshawk grew up in the early days of the Citadel, when things were still in chaos, when fighting and killing and exerting strength and dominance were an every day occurrence. Taking women from their men and fucking them right in front of them, was a way to get them to bow down, to shut up, to back off and know their place. And of course there were the other War Boys to contend with, just discovering the joys of the Chrome along with the joys of their cocks, the madness of V8 and what was expected of them, what was required – they were particularly vicious to each other. In age Goshawk had mellowed, but his tastes were…particular and he had little interest in being gentle.

Damsel knocked on the door to their room. Harrier opened it, but wouldn’t invite her in, just stood looking at her tiny form with her eyes cast down, hands folded in front of her. He’d always found her a little too pale, too ghostly looking, but he knew that Goshawk had a soft spot for her.

Actually a hard one.

“Damsel! Are you lost little one?” Goshawk called from his bed. He was reading, something Eingana had taught him.

“I’ve been sent to spend the night with you Goshawk. To please you in whatever way you see fit. And you’re to report to Eingana tomorrow on what you did. To show her the m…marks you left.”

They all were silent for a moment, Harrier still not inviting her in, Damsel not looking up and finally, Goshawk laughed a low, quiet, rumbling laugh…like thunder far in the distance.

“And you agreed to this punishment? You must have really fucked up this time, angel.”

Harrier stepped aside and she walked in, finally looking up to catch Goshawk’s eye.

“I was caught helping Bluebird. I gave him the Fuzz so he wouldn’t fight anymore, get in trouble.”

He stood then, smiling, shaking his head. He was at least a foot taller than her, but now made an attempt at kindness, pushing a lock of her dark hair behind her ear, mostly so he could see her eyes, her creamy cheeks with a hint of pink from the sun.

“What is it with that boy that you like so much? Why is he so important to you?”

“I don’t know…he’s not. You know I have to take care of all of her pets. He’s just…he was nice to me. I felt a…connection with him.”

“Ahh…you like him for fucking. But he belongs to Eingana. And she doesn’t like to share her toys, baby girl.”

“No, that isn’t it," she said, her cheeks burning, flushed red with embarrassment. "That’s not what I feel with him. But he…he does have someone. Someone who’s waiting for him. I want him to get back to her.”

 Goshawk crossed his arms over his chest and stared at her as if he were catching her in a lie and eager to discipline her for it.

 “Nux? He’s one of Immortan’s boys, and a zealot, he doesn’t have anyone but the V8. Whatever he told you about some…”

 “Immortan is dead,” she said, stepping backwards, afraid of his reaction. “He was going back with the wives and with another man they found…they were going to free the Citadel.”

The proud, confident look on his face faded, his eyes drifted to the sun out the window. 

“Enough. No more talking about this shit. You’re not here for talking anyway.” 

Across the room Harrier stood up and stretched, cracking his neck to each side. With a low, menacing laugh he left the room, shutting the door behind him, locking Damsel inside with her punishment. 

“I’ve always liked you, Damsel,” he said, his voice low and smooth…nearly comforting in the way he drew out each word, the back of his hand running down her cheek, over her collarbone, under the strap of her gown to slip it off her shoulder. “Always wondered what it would be like to fuck you while you were crying.” 

He tore the gown as easily as paper, letting it drop to the floor between them in a useless pile. She shivered although the air in the room was heavy and warm. His hand roamed over her skin, to her breast, the dark, tight nipple warm beneath his thumb. He twisted it hard, making her cry out. Then again, pulling it and twisting it until her whole body twisted with it, trying to alleviate the pain.

He knelt in front of her and took her nipple between his teeth, flicking it with his tongue, sucking at it, drawing tiny sounds of pleasure from her. He wanted her to feel pleasure. He wanted her to come, to hear her scream because of him, maybe say his name. It didn’t matter what the reason was. She was there all night and he’d been here long enough, learned enough that he’d make her scream a thousand times. Damsel ran her hands over his head, over the scars on his neck, holding him to her as he suckled. Her mound, warm and damp, brushed against his arm. With one hand he reached down between her legs, pleased to find her wet for him so quickly, easily accepting two of his thick fingers sliding between her lips, up inside her. She moaned, bucking against his hand.

“Be careful little girl, this is supposed to be a punishment for you.”

He bit down on the soft white skin of her breast, hard enough that he tasted the copper and earth of her blood in his mouth. She screamed and wavered, falling forward against him. Still he fucked her with his fingers, adding a third to her tightness, warming her up for him, for his size. She pulled away to right herself, to catch her breath and saw the blood coating his lips, his teeth stained pink when he smiled at her. He wiped it clean with the back of his arm. It dripped warm in a thin river from her breast and she stood still in front of him as he licked the stain from her body, his tongue trailing over the bumps of her ribcage, the flat plane of her belly, dipping into her navel, his hands holding tight to her hips, digging in far enough to leave the marks Eingana wanted.

Needing more he pulled Damsel to the floor, spreading her legs so wide she was sure her hips would snap. He nipped and sucked, kissing the insides of her thighs, drinking in the smell of her arousal, his favorite smell, dark and heavy. Holding her open with one hand he licked her, plunging his tongue deep inside her wetness. She squirmed beneath him, throwing her legs over his shoulders, her heels digging into his back as she thrust against his mouth. Her juices coated his face, his fingers; he sucked at the little pink bead that Eingana had taught him was the seat of all pleasure, the trick to owning a woman, if only for a night. While Damsel yelped, her thighs trembling, he found the tight opening of her ass and pressed against it with his slippery thumb. The waves built, her climax bubbling up in her blood. Just before she exploded he pushed inside her tightest opening, feeling it squeeze hard around his thick thumb, her wetness pouring over him as she shuddered, every muscle clenching, flexing around his tongue, her arm thrown over her eyes as she cried out, her back arching up off the floor. He pulled back to watch her writhe, her muscles relaxing, her body limp and flushed. When she tried to close her legs, he held them apart, standing between them to unfasten his pants.

“What do you say, girl?” He said, trying to hide how desperate he was for her to want him, to beg for his touch, his kiss. But she wouldn’t look at him. Still she covered her eyes with her arm.

“Thank you,” she said, her voice small, cracking.

“Get up, Damsel. You weren’t sent here to lay on the floor.” He kicked her leg with his booted foot, lightly, but enough to get her attention.

She didn’t want to look, to meet his gaze, to show him the lust in her eyes, how she’d been alone, unpaired, doing nothing but serving Eingana’s needs. She didn’t want him to know that even if it was meant as a punishment, even if he was going to hurt her, draw blood, leave marks, she needed what he could give her. The orgasm he’d licked out of her was the first she’d had in months. She’d been wet before she got there, knowing he was going to wring her dry, whatever he wanted, no asking, no pretense. She was his to do with what he wanted and it’s exactly what she craved.

She heard the heavy buckle of his leather belt, the hot swish of black leather slipping from the loops. He let it fall across her calf.

“Get up, little whore. It’s my turn.”

 


	10. Damsel's Punishment Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Continued Graphic Sex, brutality, breath play, blood, dominance and general sex mayhem.

He stood in front of her naked, his scarred skin lean and tanned from the sun. His legs were thick and strong, a tight v of muscles below his flat belly; and his cock, heavy, long, hard, beautiful. She licked her lips watching him stroke it to its full length, slow, his eyes locked on hers. Knowing what he wanted, she crawled to him, going up on her knees as he stroked her hair, pulling it all into one tail that he held tight in one hand.

“Open,” he said, rubbing the head of his cock over her pretty pink lips.

She did as he asked, flicking her tongue out over the head and around, down the thick, hot shaft. He groaned in appreciation, pushing deeper into her mouth, sliding in over her warm, velvet tongue, his hand tight in her hair, holding her head still. She wasn’t giving this to him, he was taking it. Still she sucked, her mouth stretched around him as he touched the back of her throat. Her eyes watered, her body aching to reject him as he pushed down, thrusting his full length into her, choking her.

"Touch yourself," he said, "you need to stay wet for me, little girl."

She spread her knees and slipped her hand between her legs, finding herself still sensitive, still wet from his work. As he instructed, she stroked between the tender, silken folds with two fingers while he grunted, pushing forward, one heavy hand on the back of her neck.  Deep in her belly, a second orgasm started to build just thinking of him watching her, wondering what he thought watching the sweat drip down her neck, her trembling thighs. The heat pulsed between her legs and she tried to pull out of his grip, to close her legs around her hand for friction, whining and whimpering around his cock, the vibrations of her noises pushing him closer to the edge.

“Come on girl, don’t you quit on me.” She felt strands of her hair tearing from her scalp as he fucked her throat, saliva dripping from the corners of her mouth. “I think I’m making this too easy on you,” he said, and with his other hand he pinched her nose shut so she could no longer breathe.

Damsel panicked, her eyes wide and terrified, begging him silently to let her stop. Her muscles clenched around her fingers as her climax rolled closer, all the blood rushing to her swollen clit, hard and slick beneath the heel of her hand.  Again she struggled, her lungs burning for air, but he only smiled and pushed harder, holding her head still as the rest of her body thrashed and jerked. Her vision blurred, darkness around the edges even as her pulse throbbed between her legs. Her stomach lurched, gagging against his length. She groaned in pain, her free hand reaching for him, digging into his thigh. 

“Oh fuck, pretty girl. You’re good at this,” he said, and she could see his eyelids fluttering, feel the change of rhythm in his thrusts. Her heart raced, the room seemed to zoom away from her, the darkness closing in.  Her whole body trembled, her pussy dripping and clenching her fingers as the orgasm drew every ounce of energy from her, blasting all at once. Just before she passed out he pulled back, all the way out, letting her fall, gasping for air as he squeezed the base of his cock in an effort to hold off. He didn’t want to come yet, and he didn’t want her blacked out when he did. He wanted her to feel it, feel him explode inside of her.

He pulled her up by one arm and threw her onto his bed on her back, spreading her legs by kneeling between them. She was crying, tears streaming down her pinked cheeks, her lips swollen and shining wet from her dutiful sucking. Without warning he spanked her, hard between her spread legs, making her scream. It was too much, too sensitive, her clit throbbing as he reared back and slapped her again, then rubbing her wetness with his palm, grinding against her, smearing her stomach and thighs with her own juices.  She whimpered and closed her eyes, he slapped again, harder than the other two, liking the way her thighs quivered, her skin bright red, glistening wet. He couldn't wait any longer.

“Pretty Damsel,” he said, licking the tears away, slipping his tongue in her hungry mouth. Beneath him she was slick with sweat, shaking, holding onto him as if she would fall through the floor. "Do you want me to stop your punishment?"

He pressed against her hot opening, his hips tipped back to tease her, to rub lightly, just a whisper of pressure against her aching clit, too sensitive, raw.  She cried out, stiffening, her back arching up before she went limp again, letting her legs fall open for him.

"No, please.  Please.  I need you inside me."

Fisting his prick, he held her pussy open with his other hand, guiding himself inside her with an agonizing slowness. She clung to him, groaning as every inch stretched and filled her with a delicious, enveloping pain that pinned her to the bed, weakened her, left her with nothing than the feeling of his slow, torturous fucking.  He knew he wouldn't last for more than a minute inside her tight core, but he did his best, keeping his thrusts even no matter how she rolled and bucked, digging her fingers into his back, her legs wrapped around his hips.

"Please come," she whispered in his ear, licking and biting at the skin of his jaw. "Fuck me hard and come inside me.  Do it.  Please."

He'd never heard it before, such desperation, want.  And it wasn't just a need for sex, she needed him. She wanted _him_. He kissed her, her mouth, her throat, licking the sweat from the skin between her breasts.  She squirmed and bucked, pressing herself against him, near tears from his withholding.

"Flip over," he said, his voice low and gruff. "On your stomach, quick." He pulled off of her and let her move, pulling her hips up to spread her open.  Her hands gripped the iron headboard as she pushed back, trying to find him, to help him, to get him inside her.  But he only laughed, rubbing her aching lips with his thumb, dipping it inside her wetness, pressing against the pink pearl of nerves to hear her purr. After wetting his fingers he pushed back inside her again and she pushed back, fast and frantic. 

"Oh god, I can't...I'm..." she whimpered and stuttered, one of her own hands slipped between her legs to feel his slick, hard rod moving in and out between her spread fingers.  He felt his own climax building like a rumbling storm, deep in his belly, dark and powerful. He thrust faster, slipping his finger deep into her ass, then another, twisting and pumping them in rhythm with his cock, her words nothing but nonsensical stammered sounds, begging and crying as she came beneath him for a third time.

Finally he could hold back no more and gripping her hips tight enough to leave the marks Eingana wanted, he pushed into her as deep as he could go, shoving her down into the mattress, his full weight hammering into her, three fingers tight in her ass as he exploded, his heat jetting out to fill her.  He made no sound, no roaring climax, only hissed his remaining breath out through clenched teeth, his forehead pressed to her back, licking up the sweet sweat from her rippling backbone.  

They stayed like that for a moment, both coming back to earth, righting themselves, catching their breath until he collapsed forward onto the bed, holding her tight against his chest, refusing to pull out of her, feeling the last aftershocks of her orgasm, her muscles twitching and milking him inside her.  Instead he ran his hands over her stomach, ran his fingers through the damp thatch of hair between her legs, traced shapes on the outside of her thigh.  

"I don't care at all about the Bluebird," she said, finally. "Not in the way you think.  I don't want anyone inside me but you, Goshawk."

He pushed her hair away from her neck and licked and kissed the soft spot where her pulse beat a rhythm beneath her skin before biting her...not enough to make her bleed, just enough to make her gasp.

"I should leave a scar on you somewhere," he said, running his thumb over her hardened nipple, twisting it between two fingers. "Mark you as mine. You want that?"

"I don't think Eingana would like that," she said, finally pulling away from him, leaving her empty, not whole. She turned onto her side so she could face him, touch his lips, the strong line of his nose.

"I don't give a fuck what Eingana wants anymore," he said. "If what you say is true, if Immortan is dead, I want to go back to the Citadel. I'm tired of being her slave."

Her face brightened, her lips breaking into a wide smile that he couldn't help but return.

"We could go back, you and I," she said, her eyes bright, leaning up on one elbow. "We could go back and tell Capable and the Imperator.  They would come back and rescue Nux...and all the boys...the girls too!"

He pushed her down onto her back, pulling her beneath him with one swipe of his arm and smiled, kissing her mouth, her eyelids.

"Don't get ahead of yourself little girl.  I'm not interested in being everyone's hero.  I just want to go home, and I want to bring you with me. I want you in my bed every night, every morning."

She smiled and he straddled her hips, this time he would go slower. He would be kinder. This time he would watch her come, the whole time staring into her bright blue eyes.


End file.
